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| Song Lyrics: |
Well, if you're one of the millions who own one of them
gas drinkin', piston clinkin', air pollutin', smoke belchin'
four wheeled buggies from Detroit City, then pay attention
I'm about to sing your song, son
Well now, I'm not a man to point or judge, to bear ill-will or hold a grudge
But I think it's time I said me a few choice words
All about that demon the automobile. The metal monster with the polyglass wheels
The end result of the dream of Henry Ford
Well now, I've got a car that's mine alone that me and the finance company own
A ready made pile of manufactured grief
And if I ain't out of gas in the pourin' rain, I'm changin' a flat in a hurricane
I once spent three days lost on a cloverleaf
Well, it ain't just the smoke or the traffic jam that makes me the bitter fool I am
But that four-wheeled buggy is dollarin' me to death
For gas and oil and fluids and grease and wires and tires and antifreeze
And then them accessories, well honey, that's somethin' else
Well, you can get stereo tape and a color TV; get a backseat bar and reclinin' seats
And just pay once a month like you do your rent
Well, I figured it up in over a period of time this four thousand dollar car of mine
Cost fourteen thousand dollars and ninety-nine cents
Well now, Lord, Mr. Ford, I just wish that you could see
What your simple horseless carriage has become
Well, it seems your contribution to man to say the least got a little out of hand
Well, Lord, Mr. Ford what have you done?
[ guitar ]
Now the average American father and mother own one whole car and half another
And I'll bet that half a car is a trick to drive, don't you?
But the thing that amazes me I guess, is the way we measure a man's success
By the kind of automobile that he can afford to buy
Well now, it's red light green light traffic cop, right turn no turn must turn stop
Get out the credit card honey, we're out of gas
Well now, all the cars placed end to end would reach to the moon and back again
And there'd probably be some poor fool pull out to pass
Well now, how I yearn for the good ol' days without that carbon dioxide haze
A hangin' over the roar on the interstate
Well, if the Lord who made the moon and stars would've meant for me and you to have cars
He'd've seen that we was born with a parkin' space
Lord, Mr. Ford, I just wish that you could see
What your simple horseless carriage has become
Well, it seems your contribution to man to say the least got a little out of hand
Well, Lord, Mr. Ford, what have you done
Come away with me Lucille in my smokin' chokin' automobile
(I B Emerson) |
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Song samples are provided for information purposes only and are intended
to enable the users to sample the music (as they are in very low quality) before
they take the decision of purchasing the music. This right is expressly permitted
under "Fair Use" as nonprofit educational purposes only. The
ownership of the copyright of the songs rests with the respective owners.
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